


Courage of a thousand

by chickxfisher



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And trans, Apex Games, Bisexuality, Bloodhound - Freeform, Bloodhound Headcanons (Apex Legends), Crushes, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, FTM, Graphic Description, Healing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mirage - Freeform, Multi, Nonbinary Character, PRETTY MUCH EVERYONE IS TRANS AND/OR NONBINARY, Polyamory, Trans Character, Wattson is Pansexual, also uh this is like, also wraith is trans, caustic gets good things and kisses cause cries, cyrpto and octane are all trans, deal with it transphobes, everyone is touch starved cause i said so, genderfluidity, i dont. fucking care tho, mostly just indepth trans masc styff, no stinky revenant (yet), pansexuality, this will get updated I PROMISE., trans headcanons, will get slightly nsfw, yes i know the dates are out of order. yes i know caustic birthday is not the day it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:48:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23877199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chickxfisher/pseuds/chickxfisher
Relationships: Bloodhound/Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Octane | Octavio Silva, Caustic | Alexander Nox/Wattson | Natalie Paquette, Lifeline | Ajay Che/Wraith | Renee Blasey, Makoa Gibraltar/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. Electric Feel(s)

Was Caustic a Psychopath? He didn’t bother with identifying that label. All it was just an insult on the field from both his teammates and enemies. Although he could sense hesitation in his squad's voice whenever he dropped a nox bomb or planted a trap in a room full of poor unsuspecting victims.

And always those subtle apologies after the match, but never if they lost. Whenever they lost there were insults to count, usually he was the first to be blamed. He didn’t react quick enough or didn’t spend enough time near his squad, too many deaths of his own including himself to even consider a match an experiment, which is what he purely joined for, and endless supply of tests and test subjects. 

Over time the insults no longer lingered, and instead began something for him to work forward to. A Monster? He’s close to what someone would call that. Which only escorted him further into his room.

Shutting the semi-air-tight door, he flipped over the latch to lock it. It had been installed specifically so no one could complain about “gas leakages” 

Sauntering through the hallway to the cafeteria, the heavy footsteps of his boots against the metal floor made his presence known without anyone even checking if it was him. Caustic studied footsteps. 

The different paces the other legends walked at, whether it was on their toes or heel. If they were in a rush or were angry. He studied them because it made conversations more approachable, it made conversations easier to plan and what the right things to say depending on the walk pattern. If he heard Eliott’s footsteps he could lock his door metres before the trickster even got to his room. 

Tilting his chair backwards, he sat down. Hearing the wood creak against his weight, he unclipped his gas mask. Putting it next to a variable he was careful to not set it off, forgetful enough to check if it was active. But not careless enough to test his luck. 

He closed his eyes, windows sealed shut with fixed rubber, the windows were tinted but after years of wear, artificial light poured through the scratches onto Caustics metal workbench. Through the multiple tubes and empty glass beakers waiting to be filled and tested it coloured his room green and yellow. 

Instead of working, he simply let his body rest into the chair below. The commotion outside his room suggested that it was soon dinner. Communal stuff, living quarters, the ability to leave and go wherever. 

Almost felt like the Apex games were just a vacation. Caustic got almost everything he wanted out of this, living test subjects was finally his. In this arena, there were no laws, no gods or govern to tell him what he could or could not do. 

But he was feared. Ultimately something he wanted, there was no legend like him, and definitely not something you’d call a  _ hero _ . 

Feeling his phone buzz, he knew it was dinner. No one had the courage to knock on Caustic's door, to face the wrath that was disrupting a man while working on biochemical hazards was possibly the main reason why friendly fire wasn’t allowed. 

So instead, they respectfully texted him instead. 

Standing up, he slid his suit off, feeling an extra weight lift off him he exhaled into the gassy air. Barely hazardous to him, he was thankful it was the main contributor to why no one went in his room, as himself being another reason. 

Standing in his room, he adjusted the thick black t-shirt he wore under his  _ “work uniform”.  _ Sliding on baggy light grey pants, he unlocked his door. 

Stepping out and closing it behind him, he was greeted with a small cheer. 

“Happy birthday!” A soft, french accented voice spoke. 

Wattson. 

Kind, pretty, intelligent. Caustic spent every second admiring her work, on and off the battlefield. She stood there, exactly opposite to his height she held a small cupcake up high to his eye level.

“I know you don’t like big celebrations, but you deserve something nice.” She spoke quietly, smiling so kind that the lightning patterned scar on her cheek crinkled into her smile.

Accepting the cupcake, Caustic only closed his eyes, nodding. 

“Thank you.”

“Oui.” She gently clapped her hands, leaving caustic alone with his tiny cake and candle. 

Wattson was the only one who saw Caustic for what he was, a  _ Scientist.  _ A man of many questions and thus he searched for answers.

But Wattson, she was truly something. Amazed by her youthfulness and intellect combined, she really was the smartest woman on the frontier, just as her father predicted. Science was no easy task, it took Caustic years to perfect his, but his noxious gas was only barely comparable to Wattsons electrical engineering. 

It mesmerized him.

Her spry, her charm. The eagerness of a fight not to harm but to learn and change the current of her surroundings. It was admirable, from one science to another, and from an admirer's perspective, everything she did was flawless and with utmost grace.

Caustic felt personally insulted when people didn’t take her seriously because of her age. 

Feeling his hand tighten around the cupcake, he continued to walk towards the communal kitchen. The smell of curried rice and sauces filled the air. 

Crypto was cooking tonight. What a relief.

The smell was an abrupt change to the usual fumes Caustic huffed, that and the smell of burning Pork Chops.

Placing the cake down, Caustic sat at the table across from Gibraltar. The tank table. 

Like some cafeteria order, tables were separated by their respective ranking order and the part they played in the games. Bangalore tried to sort the tables by which order everyone joined, but realised it would be ultimately unfair to Wattson.

Everyone respected Bloodhounds wish when they asked for their own table. They were very serious about their identity and privacy, and granted, they had their own small table to the corner, facing the rooms in case they needed to leave in a hurry. 

No one pried or asked why. It was ultimately for the better.

Making small eye contact with Gibraltar, Caustic only nodded. Mutual silence across the table until the cupcake was spotted.

“Happy birthday brother.” Gibraltar whispered, placing a firm hand on the table. Caustic nodded once more, thankful that today wouldn’t be made into a big deal.

Even Caustic himself had forgotten it was his birthday, he stopped counting at thirty-five, it felt unnecessary. He was going to die eventually, why make it a yearly countdown like it meant something. 

Caustics glare across the room made everyone but Gibraltar feel like a sudden target. Even if they’re all off field right now, his piercing eyes had that effect when they weren’t glassed behind a thick rubber mask and hidden in toxic fumes. 

  
  


Staring blankly at the cupcake, the candle had burnt down half way. How careless of him to have forgotten it. 

Picking up the cake, he went to blow it out, but paused mid inhale.

Should he make a wish? For what? Fame? Glory? He had all of that already thanks to the inept bloodsport he willingly took place in. There was not much more a man of his stature could possibly need.

Then it hit.

Perhaps, what he wanted wasn’t an  _ it  _ or a  _ thing,  _ but perhaps, a  _ person. _

Was he a psychopath? Who was he to say.

Blowing out the candle, Wattson was on his mind.

Like any other man at his age, he didn’t have too much a need for sexual justification, if he really wished for it surely someone like him could find a cheap sleep, even if he didn’t look (or was) the nicest he sure had the money to throw around, he simply longed for intimacy at this point. 

Whatever else could come next. Holding a grunt low in his throat, he made room for Lifeline to pass by, who served the food for him and Gibraltar. 

Practically skating around the room with her plate in hand, she sat down at her table. The conversation she immediately began with Mirage was almost too loud for comfort. They were good “friends”, and the holographic tricksters jokes kept the atmosphere from crushing everyone in the awkward silence. 

Caustic was no talker, alot of them weren’t unless someone else engaged.

That someone else was usually Pathfinder, but he wouldn’t be found anywhere near the cafeteria at this time. Looking down at his food he poked a mouthful of rice into his fork, chewing lazily he resisted the urge to rest his arms on the table, dreading the wrath of Bangalore.

Caustic was scary, but the women were scarier. Especially Lifeline. No one really knew that drumsticks could penetrate skin as easy as it did until Octane tried to take meds from her stash.

Exhaling through his nose, he continued to eat. Ignoring the commotion his eyes wandered to Wattson, sitting partially alone with Bangalore and a nearby Bloodhound to accompany her.

Tapping his gloved hand against the table, he didn’t realise the fixed gaze he had on the engineer. With her uniform off, she donned a large green sweater, aged as the colours faded it was a dark mossy green. Light blonde hair cut in a bob it sculpted her beautiful young face in all the right ways.

Needing the metaphorical tug of Gibraltar to knock him back, he merely grunted. Looking at the larger man he chuckled heartily, he may be big and jolly, but Gibraltar was no fool.

He knew, and too much for the trappers comfort. 

He wanted to disappear into his room, to sleep or to work, either would be fulfilling. Shoveling the food into his mouth he ignored the taste burning him, he was no curry person, savouries were his favourite. 

Caustic was never allowed to cook, everyone persisted the thought they’d be targets for his next live testing of pesticide. In all honesty, Nox even admitted that it was something that he would  _ hesitantly _ do if it were the case.

Food science was easy, to him, yes. Any scientist in the room could agree, even Ajay. Even if she was only taught in the medical side, barely anything to the effort and study of his and Natalie’s work, she was still just as smart. 

Medicine was a field he respected, no doubt. But nowhere comparable. 

Walking into the kitchen, his heavy footsteps made Crypto jump slightly. He was still cooking, it smelt like a beef dish. Washing up his plate he put it to the side, being the first one to leave the cafeteria early.

The shut of his door, he was once engulfed in the familiar fumes of nox. Inhaling, he closed his eyes. Keeping the noxious air in his lungs, but not long enough to do harm, he exhaled sharply. 

Sitting down on the tiny bunk bed, he felt his body become increasingly tired as the bed springs below shifted and squeaked against his weight. 

  
  


It was late, and they had the games tomorrow. 

  
  


Looking around his room, he exhaled at the size of it. It was nothing compared to the laboratory he had back in Kings canyon, but he made well with the space he had. 

Moving to the new arena is exciting, but it wasn’t happening for a while. Any and all experiments Caustic was working on had to be stopped completely and adjusted to the new living space while they moved months in advance.

The soft knock against the metal door of his room made him close his eyes, grunting at the back of his throat. 

  
  


“Who.”

“Is just me, may I come in?” Wattson laughed nervously, he softened at the sound of a familiar voice.

“You may.” Caustic groaned, opening his door to let her in, she stood there politely across from him once it was closed.

She didn’t wince at the smell of gas. 

“I just wanted to bring this back in, Elliot was planning to eat it so.” She held out the cupcake. 

Fuck, right. He left that out there.

Taking it, he put it on his desk. “Thank you. I apologise for carelessly leaving it.” Caustic crossed his arms, staring down at Wattson he almost forgot how small she was.

“I want to thank you for helping me. Earlier.” She blushed very lightly, twiddling with her gloves. Her accent was so pretty, such a unique addition to the legends and their generalised tongue. 

“You were lucky we were on the same team.” He scoffed, trying to ignore her infectious kindness.

The flicker of light in her eyes hinted fear, but not of Caustic. Alexander had seen many forms of fear and panic, from slight anxiety to the moments before death. 

Feeling his hands be taken, he didn’t budge

“We have an important game to win tomorrow. Last one of the season.” She grinned, bright blue eyes he could see the electricity coursing through her.

“And I’m fully  _ charged! _ ” She laughed. Caustic gripped her hand slightly. 

He didn’t loosen the grip, she let him.

It was the end of season three. New map, new home.

Caustic was just as excited as her, possibly even more so but for his own dark and twisted purposes.

She let go of his hand, he wished she didn’t. “I’m going to bed Dr Caustic. Happy birthday.” She gave him the sweetest smile, hands firmly gripping the handle out of his room, the clunk of the airlock sitting in meant that he was alone once more.

Pulling out the candle that had been awkwardly stabbed into the cupcake, he decided to finally eat it. Getting crumbs in his beard he didn’t really bother to clean up.

  
  


It was his favourite, chocolate.

He went to bed, awaiting the early games of tomorrow.

  
  


The loud blaring of wind past his face, he was thankful for his gas mask protecting his eyes.

Through the whipping winds, he looked to his squad mates. Bloodhound stood tall and proud, while still barely meeting Caustic's shoulder height.

Next to the hunter was a bouncing Wattson, flapping her hands she breathed sharply, the rocking of the metal platform they stood on as electricity jumped through her. She was prepared.

Diving through the sky he barely turned his head to look at her, flying through and cheering on like it was her first time dropping from the ship.

Everyday it was the same. A quip or two from her, flying and dancing through the sky like a bird, she loved every second, even if she died on impact of a lucky squad that landed just before her. 

She was thrilled to the core.

Skull town. Home. And it’d be the last time for a while before he saw it again.

Immediately placing a gas trap down he ducked under the rafters, sliding and scoring a P2020 his first target was the enemy wraith that caught his line of sight.

Firing only three bullets before hearing the cry of their teammate Bloodhound.

“Enemy spotted!” They yelled over the radio. “I have no weapon. Requiring assistance.” 

Caustic groaned. “I’ll be right there.” Giving up on the wraith he was chasing he slid towards Bloodhound, dropping his gun for the hunter to use they tossed a trap nearby. 

“Placing fences.” 

“Putting down an independent variable.”

The trapper alerted over their radio. Wattson was only a building away. The faint fuzz of her fences hummed a lullaby to Caustic.

Oh the months he spent getting used to being zapped by every metal object in Bunker. And the late nights hearing her soft and embarrassed swearing Wattson did under her breath when she was zapped herself. 

Hearing his distant trap go off, he nodded to Bloodhound, which they nodded back understandingly.

Sprinting off to his trap, he picked up a R-301.

Only sixty bullets. If he was going to shoot someone he’d need to make it count. “Wattson, do you see anyone.” 

“Non. Bloodhound left to find some shields so it’s just me.”

“Let me know if you need-“ a bullet fired past Alexander’s head. Then a second, this time hitting his shoulder. “Ahg-“ he grunted, falling to the ground behind cover, placing another trap. “Shooter nearby.”

“Sounded like a Kraber. This early?”

“Must be a care package, chances are it was a Lifeline one.” He groaned, clutching his shoulder, it was a close shot. Any closer and it’d be his head. “I’m falling back.”

He got up, dodging another bullet past his head he ducked behind doors, slamming them shut just in time. Not a moment to spare, he placed another trap, locking the doors.

Today was going to be a long day.

Marching through swamps and caves, as well as squads after squads. Caustic was on nine, Bloodhound five, Wattson, ten.

She was the kill leader. 

With only three squads left, and with Bloodhound barely afoot. Wattson huddled behind a trap Caustic set down, helping the hunter patch themselves up as her interception pylon shielded them from any possible artillery.

“Do you see anyone?” Bloodhound groaned, biting into the pain of a medkit being injected. “There’s a fight nearby cage. Too risky to pass, could be completely wiped if we made a wrong footing.”

“We cannot stay here forever. We move.” Bloodhound stood up, holding Wattsons hand, they ran to the nearest cover.

The distant sound of Bangalore smoke being dropped made Caustic more alert. It was thick smoke that not even he could see through, keeping with his squad he continued to place traps behind them as they ran faster. Spending months in the games gave you an acute sense of hearing, and he could tell the difference between an L-Star firing and a Havoc by now.

“Ultimate accelerator here.” Bloodhound called out,

“I could use that!” 

Wattson skipped to the hunter, activating the accelerator. 

“We are inside the ring.” Caustic groaned, placing his R-99 down. “Keep your guard up.”

“Roger.” Bloodhound nodded, peeking past the supply bin they were huddled behind. It was fairly late, the sun had set over kings canyon and the ring wasn’t going to move for a while.  “Perhaps we should relocate. Better indoors, if we get spotted we’ll have proper cover.” Wattson stood up, looking past the rocks.  “Dr Caustic.” She spoke with sudden glee. Bouncing in one spot. “Bunker.” She smiled brightly, eyes sparking with excitement, “Is it fine?”

The ring was going to close on one end of the Bunker. Perfect opportunity.

“It seems wise to camp there.” He smiled behind his mask, just as excited. Bunker was his home, soon it became something he and Wattson shared.

The fights, the memories and hours spent carefully planning each attack on, it was true art.

But it was also their home. Together they spent hours talking, sharing cups of coffee and tea and discussing new mechanics to add. It was mutual bonding over a shared interest, even if they had their differences.

When Natalie spoke to Alexander and him alone about her fences, everything inside of her lit up like fireworks. And he even felt similar joy talking about his work, even with his deeper malicious intent, she listened on.

Packing up their weapons, they ran towards the large scaled building, opening the sliding doors, Caustic was immediately overjoyed with being back in his habitat. It was his comfort zone.

Looking towards the electrical engineer, her hands sparked brightly as she rubbed them together.

  
  


The two trappers began their work.

It was much later into the night when they stopped. Fences at both ends, gas traps dotting each sharp corner. It was an under appreciated art they created together.

Bloodhound was on guard, awake and patrolling the tiny rooms near the entrance of where they came through.  Wattson was surveying the middle while Caustic stood the other side. Peacekeeper in, hand he kept an ear close to the doors.

Three squads remained.

  
  


…

  
  


Two squads remain.

Like anyone else in this position, whatever air that filtered into the bunker became uneasy. Finger sliding across the trigger on his gun, Caustic breathed sharply through his nose.

“Bloodhound, do you hear anything?” He whispered over the radio.

“No. The ring is fairly large, perhaps they’ve also taken up shelter for the night.”

Grunting, he placed another trap down. About two hours until the ring closes in any further, and bunker was just on the edge, they’d have to pass through here, it’s the quickest route.

Standing up, he walked to the tiny room off to the side. He was tired and this game was going on for too long, last ones of the season usually do, they try and make it the most entertaining one of the season by extending it to be a days worth of bloodshed instead of the already half day.

  
  


Taking his mask off, he closed his eyes. Listening to the soft hum of the Bunker, footsteps of his teammates against the metal flooring and the distant fences buzzing, he could easily fall asleep here.

Feeling a weight against his shoulder, he didn’t budge or move against it. 

“Anything the matter?” He asked quietly, it was just her.

“I’m scared. Worried.”

“Naturally. The last few squads are usually nerve wracking.”

“It’s not just that. This- place, I’m going to miss it.”

“You knew my father, he loved this arena.”

Caustic nodded, “Of course. I admired his work.” It was true, something he’d happily admit to anyone.

“I ‘ave no idea what this new place is like.” She sighed, pulling her legs up to her chest, she fell into Caustics shoulder, fully leaning against it.

He resisted the urge to lean back against her. 

Keeping watch on the door, he was scared too. Change in general was a little worrying, if they won this match, the winners were awarded a free trip outside of the games into “real society” for a week until the new arena was prepared.

No one was really allowed out without some sort of supervision. They were living legends that too many people wanted the “living” part gone.

If they kill you, they’re better. If you kill them, you’re better.

His mind settled on that thought, looking down at Wattson, he inhaled. There was a game to win, and she was his motivation to stay awake for the rest of the night as he let her sleep on his shoulder.

  
  


An hour passed and there’s still nothing. Bloodhound has made round after round of the bunker, inside and out.

Slowly sitting up from Wattson, who was now half awake. He approached the tracker.

“Take a rest. I’ll go from here.”

“Are you sure?” The tracker tilted their head. “If I see anything I’ll let you know.” He held out his R-99, exchanging it for bloodhounds sentinel.

“Fight strong.” They nodded, letting Caustic step past them.

The air was cold, slightly thick with fog. Now he could see why Bloodhound was persistent on being watch.

They could easily see through this fog, even if it wasn’t all that thick, good sight could mean your entire head.

The night sky was barely lit with dancing embers with red candles dotted the corners of the buildings just outside of bunker, the air was serene, settling into Caustics old bones. It was quiet and cold, just how he liked it. And If the circumstances were different, perhaps he could enjoy this moment a little longer.

Stepping off to the side and climbing up the outer fence wall, he sat perched up. Holding the sentinel's scope to his eye, he surveyed the area.

His mind slipped from focus, the soft voice of Wattson deep down in the bunker, talking casually with Bloodhound. He felt jealous, Wattson meant everything to him cause he had nothing left besides the new name he took on upon joining the games.

Their conversations were special and unique and every second was something he cherished deep down. Squad mates are squad mates, but Natalie was something much more dear than any other. 

The air and gentle thought of the electrician got to him, relaxing his body into the coldness his finger slipped.

Feeling his trigger finger accidentally press down, he fired. Causing himself to jolt backwards from the recoil slightly. The smoke of a bullet being fired evaporated from the end of the barrel, and with a loud ring over the speakerphone, he realised what he had done.

He just killed someone.

By accident.

He’s heard of situations like these before, never once did he ever think he’d be in the position. Shaking his head he dropped the thought, only glad he wasn’t on the other end.

  
  


He’ll be getting an earful later from Bangalore, or even the victim of his accidental-fire about being careless, or extremely lucky. 

  
  


Hearing footsteps rush towards him, he jumped down from the wall, turned to the bunker, ready to explain what had happened to Bloodhound.

Instead he was greeted by the rough shove of a kunai in his back, feeling pressed against the bunker doors he used his weight to push off.

Facing his enemy in the thick fog, he grabbed the alternator off his back. It was a stand off at this point.

The wraith who rudely stabbed him stood carefully, kunai in one hand and a wingman in the other.

“Pretty good shot back there. Got our pathfinder. Think you’ll be lucky here too?” She breathed hard, she ran here. The fog diluting her silhouette. 

“I intended our encounter to be much different. I’m now wishing it were you instead.”

“In another life, perhaps.”

He recognised her from skull town, the wraith he gave up chasing to save Bloodhound.

The distant footsteps of his teammates distracted him, the force of a kick against his face knocked him back slightly, he grunted in pain, grabbing her leg and throwing her against the wall. 

Watching her effortlessly bounce off and teleport he placed a trap down, shooting it and absconding into the bunker. Shutting the door behind him.

“Wraith incoming. I took down their pathfinder by accident-“

“Accident?!” Bloodhound shouted, pulling out their R-99, Wattson soon joined up with the rest, “which means its a three verses two!”

“I didn’t see anyone else. Could just be-“

“Peekaboo.” The wraith cooed, falling from the roof onto Bloodhound, an immediate one hit to the skull. Grabbing them and bouncing off them towards wattson. With a blast of a shotgun, the wraith was shot backwards against the wall, blood spraying across the metallic floors.

Caustic fired at her, shooting her further against the wall he noted the sound of her shields breaking.

Scrambling against the firing, she hissed at Caustic. Tossing her kunai at him he retaliated just in time, the knife slicing the side of his face, cutting his mask off and causing him to drop his gun.

Blinding him temporarily as he stumbled backwards, Wattson fired again, eliminating the wraith with another shot to the face.

“Ah! Bloodhound!” She screamed, sliding over to the tracker. Helping them off the ground, “Thank you.” They groaned, stumbling a little into the wall, sliding down.

Using a medkit, they rested their head back against the wall.

  
  


Caustic stumbled once more, wiping his eyes with his gloves. “Shit.” He muttered, wiping the side of his face, watching blood smear on his bright yellow gloves.

“Are you okay?” Wattson asked, placing an interception pylon down, she tended to Caustic's wounds. Standing on her tippy toes to observe the cut, “any closer and I would have been dead.” He groaned, taking the syringe from Wattson. 

Walking over to the death box the Wraith left, he opened it up. “Shield here, level four.”

“Extended light mag, level three.”

“Dibs!”

“Dibs.”

Wattson took the shield, Bloodhound took the light mag.

“I wonder where that other enemy is. If the pathfinder and wraith are down that means there’s one more.”

The loud noise of a trap being placed down immediately meant it went from a three versus one.

To a one on one.

Motioning the two away. He reloaded his alternator.

Watching the enemy caustic enter the bunker in a ploom of smoke, he laughed. “Never thought I’d see myself here.” The “enemy” choked.

Gripping his alternator, the enemy Caustic gripped his Mastiff.

Firing almost immediately, Alex threw himself onto the enemy. Toppling the same heighted legend to the ground. Punching him in the face before being kicked off, Alexander rolled across the ground.

Picking up his sentinel he fired for damage, shooting the enemies leg he caused the caustic to topple slightly.

The sound of Wattsons light footsteps entered the scene, then loud coughing. “Dr Caustic-“ 

Alexander was tackled once more, the sound of his gun falling backwards and sliding across the ground as Wattson continued to cough, slowly falling to the ground. The gas had spread quite far. Feeling hands wrapped around his throat as the enemy sat upon him.

“You and I are not equals.” Caustic smirked, staring into his own eyes.

Leaning down close into Alexander’s face as the grip grew tighter.

“Remember this.”

Exerting himself. He reached for his gun that had slid over to Wattson, blood leaking from his mouth. 

The firing of his alternator, Alexander used his remaining strength to push the enemy caustic off. Sending him backwards against the metal wall. Coughing harsh as blood leaked out across the floor.

Looking to wattson who had fired, she was breathing shallow and hard as the thick smoke slowly disappeared.

Alexander wheezed, hacking violently as Wattson collapsed, exhausted and struggling to breathe. Slowly standing up, he wobbled to the large doors, opening them and letting in the cold fresh air from outside.

“I thank you.” The enemy caustic grinned, holding up his golden knockdown shield.

Alexander sniffed, taking out his sentinel and pressing it directly to the forehead of his enemy.

He fired.

Blood and brains of the enemy spread across the wall, the moonlight leaking in through the bunker glistened off the metallic walls sprayed with his own and the enemies blood.

  
  


The loud blaring of game over caused Caustic to collapse, he was tired. Beaten, bloody and very worthy of a sleep.

He was a champion, he won. 

They won.

* * *

Getting back into the drop ship was full of cheers, some envious of the season winners, others happy that it was a season done.

Escaping to his room, he immediately fell asleep, ignoring the invites of party and beer he let his body sink into the mattress. He deserved it, so did everyone else on his team.

Waking many hours later into the night, the party was still going, although barely now. Drinks were everywhere and cheering of Mirage echoed through the ship.

He almost didn’t leave his room until he heard Wattsons voice. Walking out in his casual wear, he sat down on the couch next to a sleepy Gibraltar and Wattson murmuring incoherent french to herself.

“Dr Caustic!” She cheered, passing him a drink. “How many-“

“Three.” She proudly answered. Grinning ear to ear with confidence in her words.

“Six!” Mirage corrected from atop the dining table, decoys slung around his arms. Wattsons face went redder with embarrassment. “Shhh!”

Taking a sip of alcohol, the taste buzzed him. He wasn’t really a drinker, but it didn’t hurt. 

Wattson laid against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him she hummed loudly. 

He counted the room, and the numbers didn’t quite add up.

“Where is Bloodhound?” 

He wanted to give the hunter a good and proper congratulations. They worked just as hard.

“Drinking in their room.” Wraith looked up from her phone, she was browsing Twitter. Giving Caustic an acquainted smile that only made him feel uneasy.

Wraith was a puzzle, and Caustic was no master of emotions besides fear. He simply did not  _ get  _ people _ ,  _ he and Natalie bonded over that.

Was she mad? Furious? He couldn’t tell without having to go through his notes of “expressions that aren’t fear”

“Someone sure likes holdin’ onto ya!” Ajay laughed, hopping over the chair to sit by Renee. “We watched the deathcam. Quite a fight.” Pathfinder smiled through the tiny screen on their upper chest. “Lucky shot aintcha.” Ajay sneered, laughing in her words.  He was reminded of the extremely unlucky positioning of Pathfinder, and his careless trigger fingers. “My apologies.” He muttered, “None needed friend! It was truly an epic moment.” They clapped lightly.

Caustic laid back into the chair. Exhaling hard. He was still so tired, the games were over and wouldn’t be continued for another month, and in that month he and his squad had a free ticket to the city that the ship was flying over.

Before, these visits were quite often- to be whenever free time came. Weekend, off times, or when it was grocery shopping. But as the prices of a legends head grew the trips decreased to what they are now.

“So what’s your plan?”

“We’ve written you a list now see.” Lifeline threw a tiny folded up piece of paper to Caustic. Catching it he unfolded it.

“Who’s asking for pop tarts?” Caustic groaned at the list size, this was at least a few hours worth of shopping, and definitely a few hundred.

Thankfully it wasn’t out of his own wallet.

“That would be me!” Octane yelled from the kitchen. “Yeah like ya need more sugar in ya system!” Lifeline yelled back. “Ah! You always know the sweetest things to say!!”

“And it’s killin me!” Octane laughed, bouncing through the kitchen.

“Congratulations brotha.” Gibraltar walked from the other side of the room where he was silently drinking himself away from the others, placing a firm hand on Caustics shoulder as Wattson slept on his other.

“Thanks.” He muttered, looking down at Wattson. 

“Say, why don’tchu get her ta bed? She’ll drink herself to death.”

“You too, Elliott.”

“Whaaat me? I’m fine- no no I’m fine. I am. Perfecto. Y’know, as usual. Me, perfect.”  He collapsed into Gibraltar, who happily caught him.

“Best we be off as well!” He laughed, picking up the smaller legend in his arms. Taking Elliott to their room.

“Sleep easy.” Wraith looked up once more, waving a two fingered goodbye to Makoa as his bedroom door closed.  Standing up, he took the bottle from Wattsons hands and placed it on the table next to his half empty bottle. Looking down at Natalie on the couch, he gulped slightly.

He felt embarrassed, but he shook off this feeling and helped her up by the arm, carrying to her bedroom by an arm over his shoulder, feet barely touching the floor as his height pulled her from the metal below.

The soft push of her door and it was open. The same three coloured palette was the decor, closet half open the first thing he spotted was her bright insulated jacket she always wore. There was only one.

Placing her down on the soft white bed, he made sure she was comfortable. Pressing a hand against her cheeks and forehead, he made a small sound of disapproval at the warmth radiating from her skin. Fever? Too much to drink? Whatever it was it made him a tad worried, which was a lot for someone like him.

To even make Caustic feel anything beyond what he usually feels is a remarkable feat. Wattson shocked and amazed the other legends at how easily she pushed him around, making him laugh, smile.

She was so good at making him human again. Like a Frankenstein’s monster she brought his very life back and gave it true meaning beyond his already sick and twisted motives.

He wondered if it was on purpose, it simply by genuine affectionate mistake. Either made him glad to be in her presence. 

  
  


Stepping to leave, he stopped at the door. By his left sat a very large nessie plush, old and battered it had definitely seen better days. Picking it up he gently squeezed it, smiling.

  
  


_ “Papa used to always say they were good luck. So if you find one in the arena, keep it and it’ll keep you safe.” _

He practically memorized that sentence, and if he counted he’d have six little Nessie’s in his room. One was given to him on the day Natalie arrived, and now it sits by his plants, guarding them in a way.

Looking over to Natalie, he placed the Nessie in her arms, smiling at her and the comforter she squeezed. Lowering his head, he left her room, quietly closing the door behind.  The soft noise of the door shutting, he exhaled.

“What’s with you n her anyway?” Lifeline stood next to Caustic, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed. “Elaborate.” Caustic turned to leave, only to be stopped by Lifeline stepping in front of him.

She was observing him. It made him a little uneasy.

  
  


“Do y’ like her?”

“Our relationship is purely platonic, I can assure you this.” 

“Yet you didn’ hesitate to carry her to her room. Now did you?”

Caustics face scrunched up a bit. A light haze flushing up as he exhaled the blush out of his mouth. “She is nothing to me but a variable in something much grander.”

He lied right through his teeth. Caustic genuinely dreaded the times where he and Natalie weren’t paired up in the same squad, silently wishing he wouldn’t be the one to pull the trigger on someone he considered so dearly. 

He had no one else but her. And he had never had anyone ever until her.

“Why must you insist on my private life?” Caustic clenched his fists, but it in no way wavered Lifeline.  “Oh there’s ‘lot I know about you. Alex.” Ajay hummed, causing Caustic to immediately tense up. Exhaling, he looked around the room to see that it now was only him and Ajay.

“I assure you I-“

He paused, pulling his sleeve down nervously. His name was something only Wattson knew, and even then it was a lie, no matter the connection he had with her, there were some things he could never tell.  “I mean no harm to her. I understand your concern but I do not wish to hurt her in any way.”

Ajay wasn’t believing it, not all of it anyways. Her hands firmly placed on her hips, she narrowed her eyebrows. “I only care cause it’s my job y’know.”  Caustic nodded. “I understand.”

She slowly turned from Caustic, walking towards the kitchen. The conversation was finally over, to him it felt like it was going to go on forever.


	2. I won't hurt you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER. THERE WAS ALOT OF RETYPING. HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

Slowly walking back to his room, he had one thought in mind. Stopping in  front of his door, he looked down the hallway. The only lights that were on right now were Wraiths, Bloodhounds and Pathfinders.

He guessed now would be the best time to thank Bloodhound for their efforts during the games. The three had a long day of shopping and Alex wanted to catch Bloodhound before they went to bed.  Slowly approaching the door, he knocked lightly. “You may enter.” Blood quietly responded, voice soft and clear.

Pushing the door open, he was suddenly greeted by the short legend. Face red with streaks coming from their eyes, they had been crying.

Caustic automatically felt overwhelmed. 

“May I ask?”

Bloodhound sniffled, wiping their cheeks as the scars crinkled into the push of skin.  Caustic closed the door, remaining beside it as Bloodhound stood half clothed in a large shirt that reached their knees. “Today was a good hunt, you and Wattson v’ought well.”

“As did you.” Alex added. Watching Bloodhound lean against the wall next to the door he was standing in front of. Slowly sliding down it onto the metal floor below. Caustic joined.

It was the least he could do.

Bloodhound was.. Different. And Caustic saw that enough to feel comfortable around them as he does with Wattson.

Un-brushed brown hair, frayed at the ends as the red markings stretched across their face and through the cracks and scars.

“Do you, consider anyone close.” Bloodhound grabbed their braid, tugging on it. “Depends on the closeness you are talking about.”

“That Wattson. Who is she to you?”

Caustic looked to the hunter, words at the tip of his tongue he ignored the urge to speak, fear he’d embarrass himself.  “I have someone of similar closeness.”

“That.. Silva.”

Caustic blinked at the tracker, eyebrows settling on a fixed stare. “Last time they made it obvious, Octane was with that Crypto, strange pair they are.” Caustic muttered the last bit.

“How do you know you love someone?”

“I’m afraid you are asking the wrong person.”

“But don’t you love Natalie?”

  
  


It hit him harder than any peacekeeper shot the face he’d ever gotten. Love? He did no such thing.

He admired Natalie, respected her every thought conjured in her little immaculate way of thinking, the time they spent drinking their favoured beverages, sitting cooly in the deep insulated depths of the bunker by the air conditioners as a treat from working too hard.

The lunches they respectively bought for each other, how each time he’d remember her favourite sandwich and the very little specific order she had in terms of eating, or the order of how she made her lemon and rose flavoured tea.

Sugar, Honey, a pinch of cinnamon and then the rose leaved tea bag.

It was such a silly little detail for him to remember, he insisted on her as he wrote it down that he was keen to try it, but refused to take up a sip of the teapot she brewed.

Was it his privacy? He longed to experience every little hint of flavour of something she enjoyed so dearly, possibly more dearly than he himself, in the comfort of his own without the fear of humiliating himself as the sweet aroma taking over his senses. 

That memory made him warm inside, warmer than any lava or thermite grenade he’d step on, warmer than anything ever. It made him feel something, anything, for the first time in so long he could barely recall anything else making him feel this way.

The experiments, the variables and the many thousand different outcomes he had documented, they made him feel something, sure, but it was nowhere near to the comfort he achieved from being in the young engineer's presence.

Was it love? The thought alone made him sick, he didn’t  _ love _ .

He  _ couldn’t _ .

Bloodhound hummed into the silence, closing their eyes. “Perhaps.” they sighed, looking up to Caustic who had a fixed stare on the large window revealing the emptiness of the space they traveled through.

Each little light in the inky void was probably a sun, and with that sun was probably a planet. Caustic felt slightly nostalgic thinking about the vastness of the universe he was in, he missed his home.

The choices he had made and the decisions that followed him into the reincarnation of identity were things he was ultimately proud of. His decisions,  _ his _ decisions. It made him who he was today, and he wouldn’t deny the rush and fulfillment he felt.

  
  


But he’d be lying if he didn’t think or dream of a life where he wasn’t… Caustic. Where he wasn’t here in the games, killing the same fodder over and over for the purpose of entertainment to others. He settled on the thought that people were watching his sick and cruel experiments long ago, and he used that to venture forward and create more, fulfilling ways to test. For him, and for the viewers.

Bloodhound was here for glory, something that Caustic could understand, in a world and universe so vast and full of opportunity, Legends, despite being called so, were forgotten very easily.

He wasn’t sure why Wattson remained. Her smarts, her intellect and ambition could be used elsewhere with things that’d consistently benefit her. She deserved only the best in life, and she could easily bend the whole universe to her whole will and want. There was no one of natural status like Wattson.

There simply will never be again someone like Wattson.

Like Natalie.

Bloodhound hummed in silence, resting their head back against the metal wall. “You must go v’oard with your feelings, félagi.” 

Bloodhound smiled sweetly, but still distant. Caustic was still Caustic, and no matter how close the hunter was to him, they kept their distance for the fact that they were no Wattson, No Natalie Paquette.

“As should you.”

They sat in silence for a little while, listening to the soft hum of the dropship as it slowly moved through what would be space at this late, departure had already begun and they’d be stopping for the champions break trip by the morning.

Caustic was unsure how quickly the next season would be coming at this rate, and deep down in his gut he still felt uncertainty about this new planet. He was also certain Bloodhound reciprocated some worry as well, even the name “Worlds Edge” had upset them about something Alex wasn’t entirely sure on.

Slowly standing up, Alex looked down at Bloodhound, who still sat still on the floor, knees pressed against their chest. He knew they’d be okay, and Bloodhound was going to be.

They were both going to be okay.

Closing his eyes with a nod, Caustic left the room and went to his own.

Laying in his bed, he stared at the dark ceiling. Hands placed over his stomach he no longer felt tired. He felt physically tired, his bones were old and cold and needed a true rest. But his mind continued to race at the thought of Wattson.

Seeing each other out of the games was rare, but it being a communal thing was even rarer. When they were allowed to go home and be with their own lives, barely any actually made effort to talk, already having done enough of that in the blood sport they participated in, talking about their home lives and what their plans were right after being melted by an L-STAR were not things of anywhere else.

Wattson talked briefly of seeing Caustic when she first started out in the games, seeing posters of this terrifying, brooding man with an unquenchable thirst of knowledge in the sickest and twisted ways, it was how he wanted to be presented and viewed by everyone.

A monster.

He finally slept on that thought. 

  
  


Waking to the loud clash of pots and pans, he immediately knew it was Octane digging for food once more. An indirect message to the three victims of the grocery trip to hurry up.

They might have been the champions, but they were still treated like puppets to the games officials. Going out in the public right now after a season was done was the most dangerous thing one could do, the price of their heads; and especially Caustic and Bloodhound, were far too big.

Bloodhound, for glory and their continued championships over the years.

For Caustic, he was a dead man walking. 

Wiping his face he groaned into the touch.

“Watch it Silva!” Wraith screamed from the living room. Caustic was simply too old for this, pulling himself out of bed he threw back on his black t-shirt, rubbing his arm he pushed open the door.

Octane was standing on the table, holding his hand up high. “I gotta check twitter! I gotta see if anyones talkin about me!”

“Use your own phone!”

“I’m using yours!”

Caustic pinched the bridge of his nose, he wanted a coffee, he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible and just isolate himself.

But he wouldn’t get a chance, he had company. While one of them was definitely a delight, the conversation Caustic had with Bloodhound last night had definitely settled in deeper than Alexander thought.

_ Love _ .

It was so weird, what even was love. He knew the medical definition for it, a chemical in the brain. He knew the literal definition, every definition possible besides experience. A loud thump breaking his train of thought, he groaned at the mess Wraith and Octane had made, the voidwalker now with her phone back and the junkie trapped under her, pouting.

Caustic simply ignored them and their technology based feud, walking to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

Greeted by Ajay, she stood from him at the counter, sipping a hot beverage from the pink cup she owned. “Mornin’” She hummed, looking rather chipper for not being an early bird.

“If I must ask-”

“Must you?”

Caustic scrunched his face up, crossing his arms. “No, I must not.” He rolled off the question, turning to the cupboard to grab his own cup.

“I ‘eard you and Bloth last night.” Ajay sipped, closing her eyes into the warmth.

The dark room of the communal kitchen as the living room was bright and full of energy still. The radiating warmth of her cup as her hands surrounded both sides. 

“Is it true.”

“That is none of your concern.” He replied bluntly, too bluntly, but it was Caustic, who could tell.

“Is.” She put her cup down, “It true.” Ajay stood in front of the larger man, furrowing her dark eyebrows at the trapper. 

Caustic eyes shifted awkwardly, he didn’t want to answer this. But even he wasn’t sure why that was so.

“Answer me Alex.”

“And If it is true. What are your intentions?” Caustic spoke quiet, but still low enough in his throat as if a growl, warning off Ajay from crossing any boundaries.

He’d never hurt Ajay, or really anyone- well, not out of a game at least.

“Can’t we discuss this another time?”

“I want you ta promise me you’d never hurt her.”

“That was never my plan, I assure you.”

“You ‘eard what I said.”

She placed her cup down, standing right at the foot of Caustic. He felt choked up, this hurt his pride. Clenching his fists at the side, Alex moved his attention elsewhere, slowly returning back to Chey with a sigh.

“I promise.” He muttered. 

God that hurt, his pride was stricken too early in the morning. But it was for Wattson's sake, he would never hurt her- but understood why the combat medic had her worries.

Ajay looked down at the floor, crossing her arms before staring back at her coffee cup. Taking it and leaving, she didn’t need to speak anymore. The conversation was long done.

Hearing the medics footsteps leave the kitchen and disappear into the noise of the living room, Alex felt a weight lift off his chest.

He had no ill intention, and respected Wattson enough to accept that if his feelings and perspective on the younger engineer aren't reciprocated, he’d be fine with it.

Being with her in general meant peace, everything else could come much later. And  _ “love”  _ for him, was much, much later.

Brewing his coffee and sipping it diligently as he watched from a distance, the familiar sight of comfort approached him. Wattson, dressed in blue hoodie, similar colour to her usual jacket. Hair un-brushed and heavy bags under her eyes. “Morning Dr Caustic.”

“Good morning Ms Paquette.” Caustic smiled into his brew, nodding with a sip. “Do you know when we are leaving?” She yawned. 

“If you’re ready, we’re currently waiting on Bloodhound, although I haven’t seen them all morning.”

Wattson pouted slightly, “I do not like being fenced up Dr Caustic” she whined, starting to bounce in one spot, hands rubbing her shoulders almost fast enough to generate pure electricity.

“If it is bothering you so much, perhaps we could take a communal walk around the ship?” Caustic offered, quite silly of him to say, but even he felt the effects of being stuck in one place. At this hour, and on any regular day, Caustic would probably have had a wingman against his forehead by now.

  
  


Wattson hummed, closing her eyes slightly. “I’d love that.” She whispered, swaying on the tips of her toes against the ground, hands behind her back. Smiling so brightly, it was contagious.

Smiling into the last sip of his coffee, he put his cup down. Nodding politely and letting her take the lead away from everyone else. The large windows showing out into the wide open space, his attention slowly drew from his company to the vast emptiness.

The loud noise of chatter and general communal of the other legends slowly droned out as they further paced down the ship.

They stood there across from each other, breathing in slowly, Caustic hummed in contentment.

Wattson looked up to him, fixed stare as he stared on the black void outside. 

She admired him, very much so. He was a genius, a man of stature and a man of pure energy. Feeling a soft blush glow across her face, she continued to stare. 

“Are you excited for the new arena?” Wattson cheeped, looking up to him.

“It will definitely, interesting. We need to take note of the building count, not to mention if the weather is right enough for my gas.”

“Too much wind is bad. But it can help spread. How about you Ms Paquette?”

Wattson twirled her fingers around, humming a constant note as she recollected her thoughts. “My pylons have been getting smaller. Easier mobility and practically weightless.”

“But… less effective. I do need to balance them out a little. Apparently there will be snow on this planet, but also scorching lava.” She spoke with her hands. 

Caustic was entranced.

“I would need to make sure they can last in hot temperatures. But also cold.”

Caustic smiled lightly, tilting his head forward. Hands behind his back as he looked back up to the large window displaying the empty space they traversed through.

It really felt like it was just Natalie and him in the entire universe. Not a single sound of life could be heard throughout the ship besides the settled breathing of his companion.

“I’m sure you will figure it out Ms Paquette, you always do.”

“Do you think about death, Dr Caustic?”

The question was that of a punch to the gut, he sure didn’t expect anything of that to come from her. “Of course I do Natalie, death is an expression of who as we are.”

“Do you… suppose there's anything after?”

He breathed heavily through his nose, he knew the answer, there wasn’t. And possibly will never ever be an  _ “After” _

“What do you think, Ms Paquette?” 

She looked down at her feet, blinking hard as her hands gripped the sleeves of her hoodie. “I hope so.” tilting her head to the side, she smiled up to Caustic, “I hope so.”

Her skin soft and full of color while her eyes held a calm blue to them. 

His heart skipped, turning to her he exhaled deeply. Blinking slowly at her as she spun around on her feet to face him.

The closeness between the two stayed the same, but he could feel his body gravitate towards her and her to his. Was he starved of touch? He wanted to hold her hand, wanted to look her in the eyes and tell her that there was no need to worry about the end of all ends.

Her death, her end was so far away.

No matter how many times he’s seen her  _ “die” _ in the games only to be promptly re-spawned, it never sat with him long enough to dwell on. But this did, and he had always accepted that he was going to die one day.

But now he’s realizing that she will too. And it scared him.

Swallowing hard, he stiffened his posture. “Perhaps I should check on Bloodhound, they must be ready by now.” He hurried along, hands behind his back once more. Walking past Wattson, he left her alone near the window.

Slowly stopping, he only turned back once to watch her.

A tiny figure in the blinding light of the cosmos, shadow barely casting on the wall as her unbrushed hair had highlights of pure stardust. 

She was magnificent, in the very sense. 

What else could he say?

  
  


Walking through the ship, he stopped in front of Bloodhound’s door. Holding his hand up to the wood, he hesitated.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Wattson, and the longer he stood there the closer she got returning from their viewing spot. His gut turned, he felt bad for leaving so abruptly. But glancing over to her, he saw Lifeline approach the engineer.

He felt even worse now.

Knocking on the door lightly, he opened it at the sound of bloodhounds approval. “Natalie and I are ready-” He paused, looking at the shorter, stockier legend. 

Hair tied up in a long braid that matched their slight facial hair. It was a shock, it wasn’t first time Caustic had ever seen Bloodhound without their thick layered gear, but each time was an experience. Pale skin covered in a similar patterned scar to Wattson, they smiled as the crow they had adopted sat on their head.

Hand knitted green sweater over black jeans, Caustic blinked slowly at how Octane could ignore the virtue of Bloodhound. How anyone could really, Bloodhound was quite something. It was simply his loss.

Alexander admitted to himself that they did look nice, and donning the sweater that Wattson herself had knitted for the new temperatures they’d be experiencing at World's edge.

“You look quite casual.” Caustic joked lightly. It was a sight to see any of the legends in such casual wear. Even around the ship, they all favored comfort over looking nice. 

There was no looking nice when you’ve seen your own innards pile out. Or the inside of someone’s skull exploding to a Kraber. 

The blood-sport broke the ice in terms of formality. 

“It is strange. Ha’ Ajay told me to not.. stand out.”

They slid on a face mask, it had little symbols hand-sewn into it. How quaint, Caustic thought.

  
  


“If you are ready, I’m sure we will be arriving soon.”

He nodded, letting bloodhound continue to get ready. He left the room, standing outside the door with his back turned, he stared for a good minute at the sight of Lifeline and Wattson talking.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, Wattsons smile was contagious as always. Feeling the conversation Alex had with Ajay rise up in his stomach, the nausea began once more. 

Why was he so distorted by the thought of  _ Love _ ? Surely if he didn’t or care to feel love, he wouldn’t be so physically upset every time the thought came to mind. But it did, and every time was worse than the last.

Today will surely be the longest day of his life.


End file.
